


put your arm 'round my collar bone

by jupiterss



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Drabble, M/M, just fluff and gay, u can pry this ship from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 15:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13149723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiterss/pseuds/jupiterss
Summary: Sundays were always Eddie's favourite.





	put your arm 'round my collar bone

Sundays were always Eddie's favourite.

There was no work, no alarms, no responsibilities. He didn't have to wake up at god-knows-what in the morning and shove himself into an uncomfortably fitted suit and tight shoes and rush out the door in order to meet his first client. He didn't have to drive around and escort people who thought they were too important to even look him in the eye. He didn't have to drink overpriced black coffee from a cart on the street during his all too short breaks in between appointments. He didn't have to come home at night, exhausted beyond relief, both mentally and physically, wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed and stay asleep forever. He didn't spend the day over-thinking or stressing out or being bombarded with impulsive thoughts – _70% of common illnesses are spread by hand touching a handrail is like shaking hands with 10,000 people telephones harbour up to 25,127 germs per square inch cold and flu germs can survive on surfaces for up to 72 hours a cough can travel six feet wipe down your steering wheel again_ _you're sick and you need to_ _stay clean Eddie-bear stay clean stay clean stay clean stay c-_

He didn't have to do any of that. Sundays were free.

He wakes up naturally, a bit before eleven, fingers stretching outwards and searching the wrinkled blankets as he feels last night's dream slowly flicker away from his memory until it disappears, leaving him with nothing but a slightly bittersweet warmth in his chest. He doesn't know what it was about, but it was a good one. He was having more of those lately.

He blinks one eye open, then the other. The curtains are drawn but a stream of golden sunlight filters in through a gap, silvery specks of dust floating around in the light. The sheets on the other side of the bed are disturbed, and he runs his hand over the empty space, a quiet sigh escaping him when the material is still warm under his touch. The bedroom door is slightly ajar, sounds of clattering kitchenware and the hum of the stereo seeping into the room. He smiles, thinking that he would happily sit in this moment forever.

 

He does get out of bed, however, once the enticing smells of eggs and toast and coffee win over his desire to fall back asleep until the afternoon. His slippers drag on the hardwood floor as he walks down the hallway, eyelids still heavy with sleep behind the wire frames he had slid on. They are still new, and he's not quite used to them yet, but he's thankful for the clarity they provide once he reaches the doorway to the kitchen.

Mike is wearing red flannel pyjama pants and a shirt with a graphic printed on the front too faded to make out. He's standing over a frying pan on the stove, the contents giving off a satisfying sizzle and creating tendrils of steam that dance in the air and rise upwards until they dissolve into nothing. His phone is sitting in the speaker slash charging dock that Bill bought him a few birthdays ago, a sweet, nostalgic kind of song playing from it, and he hums along, swaying his hips slightly, seemingly oblivious to the set of eyes watching him, and the feeling he's igniting.

He reaches over to grab something, Eddie can't see what it is, and adds it to the pan. He turns to pick up the mug that he has set off to the side, but his eyes flick up to his boyfriend, leaning against the doorframe with a tired, wistful smile on his face, black sleep shorts nearly hidden by the t-shirt that's almost three sizes too big and comes down to mid-thigh. And Mike's heart swells, for a moment, and he smiles too, so perfect and contagious that Eddie almost feels the need to pinch himself, to assure himself that this is real, he's really seeing this, and he feels so unbelievably lucky.

“Morning,” Mike says, softer than anything, as he picks up a second mug and carries it over to Eddie, who uncrosses his arms from his chest and gratefully takes it in both hands, bringing it up close to his face but not taking a sip, revelling in the scent and warmth coming from the perfectly made coffee. Because it's always perfect, when Mike makes it.

“I love you,” Eddie replies, the words tumbling out of his mouth without prompting on his part, as if he'd only just realised it, as if it were a new confession. He's not sure why. It's something he's said so many times, every day since the first time, but it feels different this time. It feels like so much more.

Mike's lips part, a split second of confusion on his face before it's gone, not because he's surprised by the words themselves but rather the way they're said. And he smiles wider, and leans down to place a kiss on Eddie's forehead, who sighs at the touch.  
“I know.”

And Eddie thinks, _do you know?_ _I don't think you do. How could you?_

_How could you know that my heart beats harder than it ever has every time I look at you?_

_How could you know that I would listen to your voice and nothing but your voice for the rest of my life?_

_How could you know that I feel so incomplete whenever you're not around?  
_ _  
How could you know that when you touch me, I finally feel_ clean _?_

But he doesn't say anything else. He leans up on his toes, carefully making sure not to spill his coffee, and kisses him, hoping that it will say everything he can't, but knowing it never will.

“I love you too,” Mike says once they part, and he quickly returns to his cooking, because the eggs have started to burn. And Eddie laughs. And he realises that he's okay with Mike not knowing what he means when he says 'I love you', as long as he gets to hear it back.

 

But Mike does know.

He knows more than anything.

And he feels the same.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is @kinghanscom ty for reading if u did


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